


Morningstar

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash), UltimateFandomTrash



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Coercion, Daddy Kink, Episode: s02ep09 The Mephisto Waltz, F/M, Foot Fetish, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, I swear to god I love Sabrina as a character, Incest, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Public Nudity, Sexual Coercion, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, episode AU, not my fault it's the plot of the show and he wants to fuck his daughter, there are kinks in here that I don't have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: Sabrina has to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes in order to save her family and friends.





	Morningstar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilwriter37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/gifts).



> This is for evilwriter37 because I want you to grab a paddle and row this ship with me, bitch.
> 
> I only edited this once because I do have a lot of works I have to get back to for another fandom (Supernatural, and if you are coming over from that fandom to read my little adventure into this one, hello, I wrote more evil!).
> 
> This is my new darkship OTP, I couldn't help it. I screamed at the reveal that she was Lucifer's daughter, paused the episode, and sat at the bottom of my stairs for a few minutes, and now I've rewatched their scenes way too many times, and I will sail this ship on my own if I must. Join me in sin. Also, anyone know if they've got a ship name?
> 
> Also tried to make this as realistic with rape as possible, so no, when her body seems more compliant, it's not me just saying fuck it, and making Sabrina love him or like him or something, it's just a defense mechanism and a survival technique that is aiding her in the moment, and it's quite a normal reaction actually and something that happens to a lot of survivors.
> 
> This is based off what might've happened if Lilith hadn't grabbed Lucifer with her powers, and he instead overpowered everyone. Now, enough rambling from me. Damn yourselves with me, and please comment!

It wasn’t anger or fear or even acceptance that filled Sabrina when her plan failed and she was faced with the Dark Lord’s wrath, pinned to the Academy floor by his massive body, but numbness. The golden crown of Hell had toppled from her head, and perhaps it would never rest on it again, but if it was meant to at least it was whole, the finger bones it was made from uncracked. It had been a false hope that had lived within her that she would not become her father’s child bride, and would not lead his armies beside him. The Acheron Configuration had failed as a prison and now she faced his searing red eyes, unable to look away even as she heard the cries of her family and friends, surely held rooted to the spot by some dark power of his.

“ _Sabrina_ ,” he breathed, his voice inhuman and layered with power. “ _You promised to be a good girl and fall into line, did you not?_ ”

Tears fell, unbidden, as he caressed her cheek, and she shuddered.

She had been willing to do this at one point, to be his queen, to rule, to lead, to… to be his bride, his lover, to lose her virginity to him, but the mere suggestion of it in his movements now had her brain shutting down. He was just so large in his true form, and he was more than her, not mortal, not a warlock, but a cosmic being, and all his will was bent on getting inside of her.

Her mouth opened, and usually she was so ready to fire out an argument, words tumbling out, creating change, rallying people around her, building strength where there had been none. She’d done it for Theo, done it for Harvey, done it for Roz, even for the Weird Sisters, for Nick, for Ambrose, but now her strength failed her, and she realized she was truly his. Created by him, puppeteered by him, meant for him.

He leaned in, breath that had once been putrid and burning in his other form when he’d appeared to her before at night in her room now Heavenly and beautiful, and he spoke, voice natural again, “I gave you a crown, a place by my side, and was going to give you my love, my devotion, my _passion_. I gave you Greendale, was going to allow you to tend to your pets - both mortal, and witch alike - would even have let you keep them as slaves for I know how much you fancy them. And you betray me like this? Oh, Sabrina. My dear child, my queen, you wound me.”

His words, while soft, were spoken with a tone simmering with power, rage, and pure, unholy strength radiated from his entire being. Sabrina cried out and felt more tears roll down her cheeks when he ripped some of her dress from her, exposing one of her breasts, and there were shrieks from her friends and family in the room, which served to make her cheeks redden in shame. There had been times before when she’d been willing to show her body in front of the coven, but not like this, not having her power stripped from her by the Dark Lord himself, the being they all prayed to night and day and worshipped with each breath.

His hand was on her now, burning, like claws were digging into her, and she screamed, attempted to get away, but that only served to make her hips press up against him, and he ground down against her, something she’d really only experienced with Harvey or Nick, when she’d wanted it, and it was sickening in this context.

“Look, child. _Look_.”

He grabbed the back of her head, tilting her neck down so quickly pain twanged through her, and she saw them, the claw marks, his mark. They were deep crimson stripes that ran from beneath her collarbone almost to her nipple. She’d defied him, and now it showed. He climbed off of her, grabbed her and held her up for all to see.

“You all know the price any witch or warlock pays for defying me!” he bellowed. “Sabrina Morningstar is mine! Her charge is to _be mine,_  to rule beside me, to be in my bed, to let me have her body as I wish, and she went against that, tried to imprison me. Unless she corrects this mistake, her punishment will fall on you, those she loves.” Sabrina was shuddering, trying to cover herself, and he slapped her hands away, grabbed one of her wrists. “You all will die. Greendale will not be hers. My queen will suffer in sorrow at witnessing your prolonged, horrible deaths unless she gives herself to me.”

“Let her go!” Zelda cried. “We all know the price. You have called upon some of us in the past, and we have done your deeds, but no longer.”

“Ah, Zelda. The woman I planned to take before her wedding night. I was saddened that got interrupted. You are a beauty.”

Zelda seemed held by some spell, shaking, attempting to step forward from her place in front of Sabrina, but she couldn’t move, tears in her eyes. Sabrina looked away, unable to hold her gaze. She avoided everyone else. They had all been there to help, and now they would all die, and they all knew her shame.

“Then take me instead.”

A laugh left the Dark Lord, grip tightening on Sabrina, pulling her closer, as if to make it clear what he was here for.

“Oh, that simply won’t do. Sabrina here is part of the prophecy. She’s my own flesh and blood. You are ravishing, Zelda. You simply are, and perhaps we would have a _thrilling_ time together, but this girl you’ve raised, well, she and I are meant to be. Now keep quiet, or you will _lose your tongue_.”

The Dark Lord turned Sabrina to him, and for that she was glad, guilt hollowing out her chest, not willing to keep up the fight with herself about facing the people she loved. He forced her chin up, grip on her face hard. With a wave of his hand the crown came to rest upon her head again, the weight of it on her soul crushing.

“Now, daughter dearest, my displeasure with you is immense, and you will not know kindness tonight. The fault for that lies with you. Lead us to the finest bedroom this Academy has to offer, and submit yourself unto me, your Dark Lord, so that our rule together may begin. And once your punishment has passed, I will give you Greendale, as promised, and a world on fire.”

Sabrina knew where to take him: Father Blackwood’s chambers. As the former High Priest he would have the nicest bedroom in the Academy of Unseen Arts, and the Dark Lord would be pleased.

Chin held high, cheeks flaming red as she saw the heartbroken stares of all those who had raised her or played a part in her life in her peripheral vision, Sabrina took his hand that was much bigger than her own, and led him from the room, bringing herself to her own destruction.

She’d never been to Father Blackwood’s chambers before, the very idea unthinkable, disgusting, and horrifying in nature, but now she was here. The coven was dead, Father Blackwood gone, having abandoned this place, and she knew it had to do with her, his putrefying hatred of her as a young woman having power, so the chambers were no longer his. Many of his belongings had all been taken, or set in the fireplace to burn, where flames still licked, casting light and shadows about the room. Everything was made of dark varnished wood or marble, or even burnished gold, intricately carved and smelted, set with designs of sacred geometry, and representations of the Dark Lord, some of which were set into the headboard. The comforter and pillows on the bed were velvet, black interwoven with golden thread. The room felt empty, even with all the furniture left behind - a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, a desk, a bureau, end tables, all the belongings missing, but the horrid personality remained, having seeped into what remained. Sabrina felt like a trespasser, even though she was sure no spells lay upon this place.

The upside down cross above the bed burned from the Dark Lord’s pleasure with the room, or at least, that was what Sabrina thought it might have been. She tensed, an attempt at stopping herself from jumping when it fell from its place on the wall, the flames billowing out before it went behind the bed.

The Dark Lord’s eyes were back to what they had once been, that striking gray-green, and Sabrina stood by the bed, hands nervously gripping the skirt of her dress, awaiting his word.

“This was Father Blackwood’s room, was it not?”

Sabrina nodded, still not sure if she would be able to find her voice.

He paced, hand trailing over the comforter, other idly reaching out for her as he continued to observe where she’d taken them.

“I know of his deceit. I’m not omniscient, but I see enough. He will be dealt with later and will come to heel. I’ll enjoy watching you make him bend the knee.”

He touched her now, hand caressing her neck, other one undoing her dress, somehow finding an easy way to undo it even with all the metal. He pulled the metal pieces of the bodice apart, and laid them aside, and snapped the piece about her neck, letting the rest pool to her feet, which left her in just her lacy black panties. Goosebumps rose up on her skin, and she resisted the urge to cover herself, but already the claw marks were fading from her cooperation.

“You were so talkative earlier, and you have such a lovely voice. Where has that gone? I have not stolen it from you, if I recall.”

Before she could respond she was slapped, a cry escaping her parted lips. Sabrina glared, hot blood falling from a cut on her cheek, skin burning, throbs starting up from where his rings had struck.

“Speak!” he commanded. “Subservience does not mean silence unless I will it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Remember what we spoke of?” he asked, hand raised again, the back of it this time, and she shied away, already imagining the feel of his knuckles and the metal against her. “What you will call me in private?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she all but whimpered, stomach roiling with disgust.

She’d heard of men who enjoyed being called as such by their sexual partners - Sabrina wasn’t a prude, and she wasn’t one to judge either - but the thought that he _was_ her father made her want to rip herself to pieces. All of her was rebelling at this, but that would get everyone downstairs killed. It could get her killed, or it could make her suffering much, _much_ worse. Sabrina was going to have to bend to his will.

“Good.”

He made her step out of the dress, and knelt, massive hands running down her body, the sensations twisting her insides. Sabrina didn’t have shame about her body, knew she was beautiful, but that had been given to her by him, and surely he’d given it to her for himself.

“Not to sound like a misogynist,” he went on,” but virgins are so very fun. So unused to the wants and needs of their own bodies, the things it’s capable of handling, the beauty of pleasure. I revel in pleasure, in flesh, and I gave you perfection. I will enjoy having you as my own.”

To engage him while also following through with what he wanted, Sabrina forced out, “And will you also be mine… Daddy?”

He gave her a smile that could only be described as devilish as he helped her out of her shoes, hands focusing a bit too much on her feet for her liking, sending unexpected fiery trails up her legs, and he answered, “I will. You’ll come to crave this body, to not know what to do with yourself without it. I’m sure I’d love to watch you try to reach satisfaction on your own, even at mine own command, but you will not know unholy bliss or meaning without me in you.”

He placed a kiss on her thigh, and rose, divesting himself of his gold robe, Sabrina feeling heat work its way throughout her body, and even pooling in between her legs. There was no denying that he was gorgeous. Unbidden, her mind went to Nick. He had led her here, but now she was betraying him as he had betrayed her, lying with another.

But Nicholas alone had not led her here. Her entire life had led her here, even her own choices and actions, the man - no, not a man, the being, the power before her - had done this.

The Dark Lord commanded, “Kneel,” and Sabrina did it, anger filling her now, wanting to hurt him, but knowing she couldn’t, knowing she was utterly helpless.

But she could throw herself into this, throw herself into this task of serving him sexually, let the rage fill her body and take her over, if only to survive. Her mind was no longer on her family, but on her body that was almost wholly exposed to him, and on his, the toned muscles, the bare skin, his towering height, the strength he possessed, and on the violations she was about to experience.

Survival was all she had room for.

A tingle ran down her spine when she looked in between his legs, eyes focusing on the bulge there, and he was undoing his pants.

Oh Satan, how big was he?

Her instinct was to close her eyes and start murmuring prayers to herself, but she feared punishment if she did that.

Feeling as if she might’ve been possessed, like something else had taken hold of her, some part of her mind that was trying to save herself from his wrath, she came forward to tug his pants down, fingers brushing over his hips.

“Allow me,” she breathed.

“Ah, Sabrina, what a good girl.”

He thumbed her ear, sending tingles through her body, and then he was taking the crown off of her. He used his powers to move it to the empty desk in the room.

“You look beautiful in a crown, but let’s not break it, shall we? I’m going to get rough with you.”

She nodded, needing something to do with the fearful energy and buzzing jumping throughout her, and then Sabrina placed her eyes on him. He was already erect. She’d had enough heavy makeout sessions with Harvey and Nick that had almost turned into sex to guess at what an erection looked like, and he was bigger than both of them - long, thick, the head as pink as his lips and slicked with precum.

Sabrina’s mouth dropped open in fear, and he grabbed her, pulling her forward, hips arching towards her.

Everything in her was telling her no, but there was no _no_ anymore. This had to be done.

“Be a good little girl now. Open wider.”

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and then he was maneuvering himself into her mouth. Sabrina had wanted to think she’d be able to handle giving someone a blowjob, had even lain awake at night picturing herself on top of Nick, holding him down, sucking him into her mouth and listening to his cries. But now she gagged, not expecting the bitter taste of precum, or the feel of him, so thick and hot with need. He filled her mouth up, and she could feel the race of his pulse against her tongue, the big vein on the underside pressing against her. He fisted his hands in her hair and fucked into her mouth, not caring for how she was handling it.

“Oh, Sabrina, yes,” he breathed. “Hold me, darling.” When she didn’t immediately do as he commanded, he held himself in her, the head of his cock touching the back of her throat, her eyes watering as she choked, and he threatened, “Do it, or I kill your Auntie Hilda. Wouldn’t that be marvelous? Drenched in all her blood?”

Immediately Sabrina grabbed onto him, skin soft and warm beneath her fingers, his body firm, and she told herself she could get used to it, could enjoy him, that she _was_ enjoying him. What girl wouldn’t love being with a man as gorgeous as him? What witch wouldn’t willingly give herself to the Dark Lord? It was what all of them had been prepared to do during their lives, to open their legs, and apparently their mouths, for him, when he came calling. And he had come calling, and this was prophecy, unavoidable, so Sabrina told herself she liked it. She even got adventurous and forced herself to grasp his ass, and he groaned, fucking deeper into her mouth.

“There we go, Sabrina. That’s it. Taking your punishment like a good girl.”

His voice was horribly low, gravelly, and Sabrina unintentionally brought her hips forward, feeling hot and needy in between her legs, a lightness taking over her stomach that made her dizzy. And then he was hitting something in her throat that had pleasure singing through her and she screamed, voice muffled by his thickness. He slapped her bleeding cheek a few times, keeping his thrusts deep.

“Oh, the things you virgins don’t know about. All the secret pleasure spots my sorry excuse of a father built into you when he thought no one was looking.”

Saliva was building up in her mouth, dripping from her bottom lip, her throat swelling and building with pleasure, and it was making sounds she’d never thought herself capable of leave her. Somehow it quelled the choking, her throat relaxing into it, like it wanted him, wanted her own father.

She dug her nails in, trying to anchor herself, terror taking hold of her, not understanding what was happening. Her body was on fire, hot from him, nipples hard, and so wet in between her legs, and oh, to all that was unholy, the things she felt in her throat, the pleasure, made her want to pull away, but he held her fast with hands that dwarfed her head.

He pulled out of her, letting her breathe, and gasp for air, and she sobbed, grabbing onto his wrists, shaking. She wanted to beg, to plead, _no more_ , but then he was putting himself back in her mouth. Out again, and then in. Out. In.

Out.

In.

It proceeded like that till she had fallen over, on all fours, gagging, feeling like she might puke, and holding her throat, which was sore, but also warm with unexpected pleasure. Her face was wet with tears and her own saliva. The Dark Lord didn’t touch Sabrina while she lay, a mess at the foot of the bed, undignified, no longer a symbol of her own strength. He was undressing, baring himself.

A foot and a hoof was before her now, and she cowered, not wanting to see more of him, fearing what emotions she’d see coiled in his body.

“Kiss my hoof.”

Another sob shook her shoulders, but she got out, “Yes, Daddy,” and she leaned forward to do as he asked, face scrunched up with disgust.

After his cock, his hoof didn’t seem like much - just unnatural. It was hard, cold, but at least it wasn’t hard and fleshy and hot and telling her how much her own father wanted her. He groaned with approval, a growl in his chest, and Sabrina cupped her hands around the back of his hoof, kissing it again. She wasn’t sure how much of this he could actually feel, or if he just liked the show, but she would do as she was told, if only to survive.

By the time he was lifting her chin up with his bare right foot, a whimper leaving her, her tears had stopped, and she knew what to do, grabbing his ankle as she pressed open-mouthed kisses against his skin on the top of his foot. He held himself up with a hand on the edge of the bed, the other going into her hair, and he hissed in a breath when she caressed his heel. Her stomach curled at how undignified this was, at how weak and lowly this made her. She was a girl, worshipping at the foot of a man who deemed himself far greater than her. Maybe that was why he enjoyed it. But his low groans suggested it was more than that, that perhaps feet were sensitive in a way Sabrina hadn’t thought about before.

“Lick.”

She looked up at him, grimacing, and he immediately lowered his foot, kicking out at her collarbone and sending her toppling backwards. The Dark Lord stood over her, towering, foot resting on her chest. She struggled beneath him, body sore from the rough treatment, and he pressed down, Sabrina inhaling, gasping, feeling like she couldn’t get enough air in.

His eyes seared red now.

“When I give you an order, daughter, _you follow it_. How about we take a little trip downstairs and I kill both your aunties? Ambrose, too, hmm? I’ll devour you right there in their blood, have you screaming for me, my mouth between your legs. Wouldn’t that be nice? I’m sure Harvey, and Nick would love the show. And if you’d like I can kill Theo, and Roz so they don’t have to see.”

The words leaving his mouth conjured up images of their deaths, blood leaving their bodies to soak the floor, gashes in them, eyes glassy, and she thought she could figure out the sexual part of his words, and her body betrayed her, insides clenching with unwanted delight. It had her crying again, and she was shaking her head, grasping at his foot.

“N-n-no, n-no, _n-n-_ pl-please no _._ ”

“No? _Then do as I say._ And do it quickly because I rather like the idea of fucking you in all that blood. But perhaps later. We still have the world to conquer.”

His foot was off of her, and she was up on her elbows and knees before she knew it, licking him as he desired, forcing her sobs into moans just for his delight.

“Ah, that’s it, Sabrina. There’s that sharp tongue of yours finally being put to proper use.”

He was stroking himself now, and her curiosity had her glancing upwards to see his cock in his hand. She couldn’t help but hold her gaze there, horridly fascinated with the part of his body that had been in her mouth and would be in between her legs. She found herself hating that part of him, while another part was pleased, and she didn’t know which part to honor. Which part was her strength? Which part would help her survive? The hatred? The pleasure? The hatred could get her hurt, but the primal part that didn’t understand the violence being done to her, it could save her, could get her through this. She had to keep drawing on it, but it was ever so difficult with the things he was making her do, things that she wasn’t interested in. Her fantasies about Nick had placed her in control, and had certainly not involved anything with feet, or calling anyone “daddy”. It brought her circling right back to hatred, and somewhere in between had her feeling pain and then numbness.

After a minute of that, Sabrina avoiding his toes, but doing what she could with her hands to make up for it, he realized she was losing interest because she was slowing, still watching him. The Dark Lord, her father, lowered his foot, and halted what he was doing to crouch down before her, grabbing her chin in one hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you like my body, Sabrina?”

“I…” She knew what she wanted to say, but she glanced at his other hand, the rings on it, and knew what kind of damage they could do to her face, so she responded, “Yes, my lord. I mean… Yes, Daddy.”

“Are you lying?”

“I don’t know.”

He grabbed her arms, hands wrapping around her biceps, and he helped her up. She swayed, falling into him, one of his arms wrapping around her, pulling her against him, and he was breathing heavy with barely restrained lust. His hardness was pressing against her abdomen, and fire plunged through her at it while nausea struck at her stomach. Oh, unholy lord, this was happening.

“It’s alright, Sabrina. No lies between us. But this body, my body, it’s all you’ll know from now on. I know you had your fun with those boys, but they will wither and fade. You and I, together, we’re eternal. But I sense your fascination.” He pulled back, looking down at her, beautiful eyes hungry, and he was rubbing over her arms. “Some part of you does enjoy this, and I think it’s only fair…”

He trailed off now, his hands running down her, over bare skin, alighting tingles in her, and he reached for her panties. The Dark Lord slipped them lower, and she pressed herself against him, fearing vulnerability in loneliness. Once they got below her thighs, they fell past her knees, and then down to the floor. He maneuvered his foot and his hoof to get in between her legs and make her step out of them. Sabrina could hardly breathe now, and she found herself holding onto him, hands on his back, nails digging in.

“...that I see all of what’s mine,” he finished, voice rumbling in his chest.

A whine built up in Sabrina’s throat and escaped through her closed lips when she felt him twitch against her, a bit of wetness coming out on her belly, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Sabrina started thinking a prayer in her head, but before it even fully came to her, just her intent known, he murmured, “Really, dear child? Praying to me? What is it you seek? My protection from this? I am inevitable. _This_ is inevitable. Our joining will inspire the passion in battle for our legions, and it will be sung about for centuries to come, a millennia!”

She cried out in surprise when he lifted her up, forcing her legs around him, and her arms were about his shoulders. Before she knew it he was pressing her down into the bed. The Dark Lord was heavy enough on her to be oppressive without crushing, and she wanted to close her legs, but he was in between them, and his mouth was on her body, sucking at her neck, traveling lower. His hand had forgone all teasing and she tried to keep her mouth shut, but shrieked when two of his fingers entered her. She was already wet enough for penetration, and Sabrina felt tears build up in her eyes at the prospect that her own violation was arousing to her.

Sabrina had touched herself before, had experimented with the idea of sex and sexuality. How could she not have? It was a modern world, and women didn’t have to be ashamed for having bodies that could feel pleasure, that could want such things. She would do it in her bathtub, or even at the witching hour, when her emotions felt heightened, but usually she’d keep her focus on her clit, the sensations there much more enjoyable. She had penetrated herself with her fingers before, only getting up to two, but she hadn’t gotten much out of it. She’d really only done so because she knew what men thought sex was about: penetration. That, and when she rubbed her clit, she found her body wanting, feeling empty and yearning for something in her, but her fingers were unsatisfying. The Dark Lord’s fingers on the other hand were much larger than her own. They were long, thick, and the sudden invasion of them _hurt_. It felt like something in her tore, but he thankfully kept his fingers in her, didn’t try to move them which would surely make matters worse. He tilted his head up and back, watching her writhe beneath him.

“Oh, how I love drawing a virgin’s blood,” he breathed.

He pulled his fingers out now, slowly, Sabrina shuddering, and she tilted her head away to avoid watching as he sucked the bit of blood from them. She still hurt in between her legs, the pain stinging, but she told herself it was something she could handle.

“You, dear one, are nearly mine.”

Some power of his caressed her mind and she found herself opening her eyes and looking at him, seeing the hunger that was set in him, that had his chest heaving, cheeks flushed, his body coiled tight with it, cock raging hard. He rested his weight on his forearms on either side of her head and kissed her, lips abrasive, voice leaving him in a growling moan.

His lips were different from Harvey’s, different from Nick’s, in a way that was more than just living and dying flesh, and that very essence was woven into every cell in his body. He was of angelic and damned nature, perfect and imperfect, unholy and the greatest power on this Earth. He was not the False God, but he was a being of which Sabrina had never lain with before, a being deriving pleasure in the touches and uses of her flesh. He was Lucifer, the most beautiful of the archangels, and she told herself it had to be her truth in this moment. This thing, her father, atop her, wishing to get in between her legs, was far more beautiful than her Nicholas, her Nicholas who had betrayed her at his request and led her to this.

Sabrina’s thoughts led to hurt that heightened till she was trembling, and that hurt led into numbness, which gave way to her body taking over.

The Dark Lord’s fingers were in her again, rough, a soreness she derived both pleasure and pain from, and her brain sent forth endorphins and adrenaline to counter the pain. Her legs were opening for him, her right one sliding up his torso, wrapping around him, and she held his face, kissing back, the fire in her stomach telling her she needed to, all of her on autopilot now. Her clit was burning with desire, but her mouth was too busy being entwined with his to tell him so, to speak of her own wants.

When he pulled back, saliva connecting them for a second or two, he grinned, and she tilted her head up towards him, going after his lips.

Her instinct to survive now hinged on compliance; Sabrina had lost all control of herself.

“See, isn’t this nice, my queen?”

“Mm… Mm-hmm.”

Sabrina relaxed, hips lowering back to the bed, when the Dark Lord pulled his fingers from her, and then he was sucking on them. Her chest was heaving, the inside of her throbbing, and she wanted to whine at being neglected. Soon his mouth was on her, tongue circling one of her nipples, and he sucked it into his mouth. She arched into him, gasping, hands in his hair, legs wrapping around him. His hands were on her, caressing, touching her everywhere they could till she felt beyond the point she couldn’t take anymore. Then he was sucking on her other nipple, and a cry left her when he bit down, hard, a spasm going through her entire body, throbs starting up in between her legs.

“Oh, unholy shit!” she exclaimed.

Usually she wasn’t one for swearing, but dear Satan, that hurt, and it was powerful.

She wanted him to stop when he started nibbling, working it between his teeth, so she whined, “Daddy, _Daddy!_ ”

This only seemed to encourage him, and he grabbed her ass, blunt nails digging into her till she was sure she’d have tiny indentations and bruises, and he spit on her nipple before taking it into his mouth again. A frisson ran through her, her toes curling.

She wanted to yell for him to stop, but she wasn’t sure she knew how. That, and even that word leaving her mouth could mean death for everyone she cared about. It was too late to go down that road now, especially now that her skin was free of his mark on her soul.

So she just let herself throw her head back and cry out, voice coming from her throat, fingers clenching hard in his hair and twisting.

Then the Dark Lord was sucking his way down Sabrina’s torso, holding onto her legs now and widening them. Her body gave in immediately and arched into his mouth when his lips found her swollen clit.

He kissed, and then sucked, and then went straight to flicking it with his tongue, sending Sabrina’s body into overdrive as she experienced this new thing. She’d fantasized about placing herself over Nick’s face, making him work at her, but she hadn’t known it could feel this good, the pleasure so extreme, and violent, even. It ripped through her, like fire to kindling slick with oil. And it made her want to be filled, made her throb, made her feel the emptiness inside her that could be filled with him.

The Dark Lord sucked and licked as if he truly wished to devour her, the very thought sending chills up her spine as wetness dripped from her center. His thoroughness didn’t speak of his wish for her pleasure, but of roughness, of a punishment he saw her deserving of. She had tried to kill him, to do away with him, to imprison him, to end his Hell on Earth before it’d come to be. She didn’t see herself as deserving of this, but in his eyes, she understood it. He was a father doling out punishment to his firstborn, in one of the most sickening ways known to mortal and witch alike. Perhaps it would’ve been better to just be dead rather than to be feeling these things in her body. But she was _alive_ , and she could feel pleasure condense in between her legs before a peak was reached, and a guttural moan left her that turned into a growl. She clawed at his face, trying to get him to move away but instead he lifted her legs up and back, close together, and wrapped his arm around them, leaving one hand free. It wasn’t free for long because his fingers were in her, pointing up towards her stomach and curling, and she bit her bottom lip as she screamed through her teeth, fighting with him on instinct.

His fingers found a place in her that was swollen with sensitivity, and he pressed and rubbed and beckoned forth pleasure as her body climaxed. It surged from her pelvis, deep in her, to her belly, liquid fire that filled and satisfied and showed her the true meaning of bliss. The continued stimulation from his hot, wet mouth, and eager fingers wasn’t like a caress, or a gentle bliss, but a knife, carving, making known her mortality, and the weaknesses of flesh. She was contracting around him, mouth now opening, trying to get her legs free so maybe she could kick him. The desire to fight was odd. Sabrina had thought all hopes of fighting the Dark Lord had left her, but instinct still remained. Did other girls act this way when overstimulated even with someone they trusted, and wanted? Did they try to escape the sensations being driven into them?

Her climax came to an end and he surely knew it because she relaxed and lay there, panting, allowing him to do as he wished without a fight. The Dark Lord ceased his ministrations and climbed up her body now, letting her legs drop down to the bed.

“My queen, my lovely queen,” he murmured. “I would ask you what you thought of that, but then you might feel inclined to lie to me. You’ll grow used to it, you and I. I promise. Now, I can imagine some men would rather enjoy taking a girl from behind, and you do have quite a lovely ass, dear daughter, but I would rather our consummation mean something, wouldn’t you?” Sabrina opened her mouth to force out an answer, and he held up a finger, and her eyes went to it, seeing that it was wet from being inside of her. “Ah, now don’t lie.”

She had been going to lie, but her body couldn’t lie, so she came forward and sucked his finger into her mouth, and his face broke out into a grin.

He caressed her head, hand curling in her hair.

“That’s it, Sabrina. Good.”

He splayed his fingers out, and she took his hand, tasting herself on him, paying attention to his pleasure, and her desire for him that he’d set in her, so the task itself was easy, much easier than talking. But he liked her voice. Her heart began to race as she thought of how to answer. She knew she had to, and if she didn’t it could get her hurt, or someone downstairs would die.

She kept him distracted, kissing and sucking her way up his arm, his shoulder, and then his neck, climbing into his lap, as she thought of how to answer.

Sabrina put a hand in his hair, thumb at his cheekbone, stroking his face, and met his eyes. She didn’t just want to get fucked, like she was meaningless. Sabrina was no longer a Spellman, was becoming a Morningstar in this moment, had already been crowned as one, so as Sabrina Morningstar, she meant something. She was someone, someone who had meaning, someone who had power despite these horrifying acts being done to her. Sabrina Morningstar was not her rape, would not let herself be this, and she would not let it be impersonal, meaningless.

So she looked the Dark Lord in the eye, and told him, “I want to look at you. I want this to mean something, Dark Lord.”

He brushed a thumb against her cheek, wiping a tear away that had fallen with her words.

Their mouths came together, and he was lifting her up, one hand on her ass, the other gripping his cock to maneuver himself into her. Sabrina held him tightly, fear taking her, but she breathed deep into her belly, trying to relax, having heard stories from the Weird Sisters that it would hurt more if she didn’t relax. A whimper left her, mouth tilting away from his when she felt him, hot and hard and fleshy at her center, and so big. There was no hesitation from him in rocking his hips up into her, pushing upwards, as he pulled her downwards, letting gravity also do its work. It felt wonderful and discomforting at the same time, like she was stretched too much, like the pressure drove too deep. It ached, and stung right at her entrance, and she figured it was because it was her first time, and he wasn’t thrusting to get her used to it, just sliding right in, pushing deeper and deeper, and shuddering moans left her that he ate up and met with his own growling voice.

Sabrina had an arm about the Dark Lord’s shoulders, the other in his hair, eyes wide and staring at him when he was fully sheathed in her, and his hips kept pressing upwards as if he was trying to delve deeper, making her ache. But, oh, how it made her burn inside. The Dark Lord held her now, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. He met her gaze, unblinking, pupils huge with want, the beautiful gray-green hardly visible. Firelight played shadows on his face, and he looked like a god, wrathful, and passionate, and he held the power for Sabrina’s pain and pleasure within him.

A hand trailed down her back, pressing her close, and she craned her neck back to keep her eyes on him, burning from the way he looked upon her, and then he was moving her body for her, timing it with the way he began to rock his hips. Sabrina gasped at the unfamiliar sensations, shocked at the power of how badly she could want him back deep inside when he was pulling out. There was an emptiness in her that was immediately filled again, that drove a burning up into her stomach. The movement of his hips was harsh, not giving her time to grow accustomed to him, and he laid her back on the bed, essentially trapping her, and she tilted her head back, breathing hard, holding in a cry at the overwhelming sensations of being suddenly filled with him over and over again, thick and throbbing within her.

The Dark Lord was biting her neck, ever surprising her with his voracious appetite for her body, and then he licked where he bit her, fire jolting through to her pelvis. It was a struggle just to comprehend, to keep breathing, to keep up with all that was happening. Eventually she caught on, and wrapped her legs around him, feet pressing at his ass, to give the idea that she wanted more of him, wanted him to drive deeper, though the idea of anyone going deeper was horrifying.

She clawed him, his biceps, his shoulders, his back, and he bared his teeth at her, a rough cry leaving him when her nails found the scars on his shoulder blades. Terrified, Sabrina moved her hands up into his hair, and tugged him down for a kiss, trying to temper him. He kissed and bit till she was bleeding from her bottom lip, and he moaned as he sucked the blood from her.

Eventually he straightened, going at her hard rather than fast, and he had a hand wrapped around one of her ankles, splaying her leg out wide. Sabrina dutifully hooked her arm under her other thigh to keep her legs open. He thumbed her clit now, and curiously, she watched, was enamored with seeing so much of him disappear into her. It made her burn even more, need fulfillment till she couldn’t stand it, till she thought she was going to lose her mind, and everything in her was on fire. She was swollen and red in between her legs, his rough handling of her making it worse, and she was fascinated with how far out he’d let himself go before pushing back in, allowing her to see just some of the thickened head before it was back in her again, spreading her wide open. In this context, thinking solely of bodies, he was magnificent, and she couldn’t help the way she was arching down into him, begging, meaningless prayers leaving her lips.

He pulled his hand away, sheathing himself in her.

“Remember, what do you call me in private?”

“Oh, Daddy, please!” she cried, pushing aside all shame and guilt and hatred, and just letting herself burn. “ _Daddy!_ ” Sabrina whined, letting go of her leg to pleasure herself.

Immediately she was backhanded across the face, and a sob escaped her, tears flooding her eyes, left cheek bleeding from his rings as her right one had, and she could feel the throbs from the hard metal, and his knuckles.

“No!” he cried, hands on either side of her head, lying on her, body against hers till she felt like she might get crushed.

“Daddy…” she gasped, pushing at his shoulders.

“You get pleasure from _me_! You do as I say! You are my queen, but I am the lord. You are but a servant to me, one who has yet to learn her place. Others will bow before you and make their allegiance known, but you answer to me! Did I instruct you to pleasure yourself, Sabrina?”

“No, Dark Lord.”

“I thought not.” He leaned in close, breath whispering against her ear, leaving her shuddering. It seemed to excite him because he throbbed within her, making her unintentionally clench around him, and he grunted before going on, “Now, attempt to pleasure yourself without my express command again and I will make you eat Harvey, starting with his cock.”

He pulled back, a small smile on his lips at the idea.

“I know you wouldn’t like to lose one of your pets. Be a subservient queen as you’re meant to, and you won’t.”

Nausea curdled her stomach, and she nodded.

The moment didn’t last long, because he was pulling out of her to fuck her in another position - this time with her ankles up by his shoulders - as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t told her he’d make her do something horrifying if she disobeyed, as if she hadn’t just been told she wasn’t allowed to have control over her own pleasure, as if he hadn’t just struck her and she was bleeding from both her cheeks now, and would surely bruise.

Even without stimulation to her clit Sabrina reached her climax in that position, crying out, trapped beneath him, and instead of overstimulating her as he had the first time he pulled out. He rolled her onto her back, Sabrina helpless and shivering beneath him, insides clenching, wishing for him and only him. It was too much to think outside this moment, to think to others, to think of anything but the flames alighting her center. He was caressing her legs, her back, and when he got to her ass she arched into it, kneeling for him, wanting to be penetrated again.

The problem was solved when he knelt behind her and placed three of his fingers in her, curling them, filling her with ecstasy as soon as she came down from her high, and he held her close by wrapping an arm around her throat. Sabrina’s over-eager body was reaching its end in about a minute from the way he roughly pressed and kneaded against that sensitive spot inside, pleasure arcing up to her clit, gushing through her pelvis till she was closing her legs, and squealing. He hurt her with his hand now, adding his little finger, and he moved them in and out with a brutality she couldn’t comprehend. It set her limbs shaking till she fell to the bed, and now an arm was around her hips, holding her up, and he bit at her ass, a scream leaving her.

Consummation and punishment.

He wasn’t letting her forget what this was.

When he withdrew his hand from her, Sabrina still crying out in the aftermath of it, he spanked her, and she jolted.

Sabrina was dizzy with lust, high with endorphins, brain fighting the pain the Dark Lord had put in her body, and she cried out with him when they were joined again, lying side by side, her leg hoisted up over his hip. Her Dark Lord was wild now, beautiful, unholy body moving with a chaos that she was overwhelmed with, driving her to tears.

She’d heard from Roz the impossibilities of a couple climaxing together, that that was only in erotica novels and smutty romances, that it wasn’t real, but this had nothing to do with normal, human flesh, and everything to do with them being made of the same stuff, the both of them a Morningstar, and he closed his eyes as she did, a scream tearing from him that drowned out her own. He buried himself in her, rolling her over, and they held each other as tightly as they could, his grip bruising, her nails drawing blood. The Dark Lord throbbed and emptied within her, and Sabrina’s walls contracted powerfully around him, as if begging for his burning seed, milking him for more.

Her father kissed her once he left her body, moaning his delight, and Sabrina kissed back half-heartedly, numbness and disgust taking her.

She lay there for a long time before thoughts came to her blank, terrified mind.

Where was the power he had spoken of?

Where was her queenly reign?

He seemed to not even be tired out from the ordeal, rising from his place on the bed, hand held out for her.

“Now, Sabrina Morningstar, Lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows, and Queen of Hell, we have a world to burn.”

She took his hand, entombed her rape within her, letting it be like glass she stepped upon that split open and bloodied her feet, and she rose, the shards digging in deeper, trapping themselves inside, shooting straight through to her heart. Sabrina climbed down from the bed, all broken glass and bleeding wounds, on the verge of collapse, but she stood unaided. And then she stepped forward, even with the way she broke, even now as a Morningstar. And then she took another step, ignoring pain, exhaustion, the damage done to her soul that he owned. Sabrina was a Morningstar. But she was still Sabrina.

She smiled at the Dark Lord, doing her duty as queen, playing a part, biding her time, even as the ruination in her mind sat, thinking up a new plan for his destruction.

“Ready when you are, my lord.”


End file.
